


The Return

by Emospritelet



Series: Drinking To Forget [11]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Breakfast in Bed, Curse Breaking, Emotional Sex, F/M, Magic, Morning Cuddles, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 04:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: Morning in Storybrooke, and Rumple prepares a spell that he hopes will restore the memories of his loved ones.  It requires a trip to the wishing well, and the use of the waters beneath.





	The Return

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken a year, I have no excuses other than getting majorly distracted by Dark Heart and a bunch of other stuff. I'm determined to finish this series soon, though.

The sound of the front door closing made Rumple jerk awake.

He lay still for a moment, remembering where he was.  His old home, in Storybrooke. For a moment it was just like old times: the familiar light shine through the curtains, the bed felt just as it always had, and there was a warm and wonderful presence in his arms.  He kissed the top of Belle’s head, smiling as she let out a sleepy mumble. They had spent much of the night getting to know one another again, and she had been as enthusiastic as he, although nowhere near as tearful.  Nerves tugged at him as he thought over his plans for the day. If all went well, by the time it was over, she would remember everything. The bad along with the good. If everything turned out as he hoped, he would also have his son back, and Alice with all her memories.  It would almost be perfect. Almost.

Belle snuggled against him, an arm tightening around his waist as her head rubbed against his chest, and she looked up, smiling sleepily.

“Morning,” she murmured, and he kissed her gently.

“Morning,” he said.  “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” she admitted.  “But happy. That was - incredible.  Is it always like that?”

“Not always,” he said, with a grin.  “But it’s always special. In different ways.”

Belle gave him a somewhat mischievous smile.

“I look forward to finding out what those different ways involve.”

He chuckled, kissing her again, and her mouth opened for him as he rolled her onto her back.  His lips pulled at hers as her hands ran over his naked back, and he pushed up on his elbows as the kiss ended, enjoying the feel of her beneath him.  He could feel himself begin to harden against her thigh, and tried to concentrate on something other than the fact that they were both naked. There was too much to be done that day, and none of it would be achieved by staying in bed.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, and she nodded.

He got out of bed, hunting for pyjama pants and his old silk robe before making his way downstairs in bare feet.  The scent of fresh coffee and the murmur of voices was coming from the kitchen, and when he entered he saw Gideon and Alice seated at the table nursing mugs between cupped hands, a cardboard box open in front of them with what looked like the remains of cinnamon Danish.  Alice grinned as he entered, and Gideon looked faintly embarrassed.

“Morning, Detective!” said Alice cheerfully.  “Sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you,” he lied.

“We’ve been awake for awhile,” she said, “so we thought we’d sneak into the town and pick up some supplies.  There’s coffee if you want it. And milk.”

“I’ll make tea, for myself and Be— uh, for Lacey,” he said, cursing his fogged brain.

Alice’s grin widened, but she said nothing.

“Tea?” said Gideon.  “I thought you needed at least three cups of coffee before you were human.”

“That was the old, miserable, celibate Weaver,” Alice said, still grinning.  “The new, domestic, recently-got-laid Weaver runs on a different fuel, it seems.”

“You’re hilarious,” said Rumple dryly.

He went to make the tea, pouring boiling water into a china pot and setting it on a tray with cups and saucers.

“French and I decided to get a takeout breakfast,” said Alice.  “That second box is for you.”

She gestured to another cardboard box.  More pastries from Granny’s, he presumed, so he set it on the tray next to the cups.

“Thank you,” he said, wondering why she was still grinning at him, and opened it up.

Alice snickered at the look on his face as he saw the contents.  A large stack of pancakes had been placed in the box, chocolate syrup spelling out _CONGRATS ON ALL THE SEX!!!_  Rumple gave her a very level look, and she started giggling helplessly.

“Don’t look at me,” said Gideon dryly.  “This was entirely her idea.”

“I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” said Rumple.  “Although maple syrup is my preference.”

“We tried that, it wasn’t dark enough,” she said.  “Go on, take ‘em back to bed. Not like you did much sleeping last night, from what we heard, so you’ll probably want some rest.  If you can bring yourselves to get any, of course.”

_Great.  That means Gideon heard everything too.  So that’ll be fun when he gets his memories back._

“I’ll be ready to go in an hour, and I expect the same from you,” he said sternly, and she cackled loudly.

He found some maple syrup in one of the cupboards, and put it on the tray before carrying it upstairs, shaking his head in fond exasperation.  Belle was sitting up in bed, propped against the pillows. She had put on his shirt, buttoned loosely enough to give a tantalising glimpse of cleavage, and she beamed at him as he entered the room, her eyes sparkling.

“I apologise in advance for the breakfast,” he said.  “Alice thinks she’s funny.”

Belle opened up the box, giggling as she saw the contents.

“I - ah - take it they heard,” she said, only a little self-consciously.

He suspected there was more of Lacey in there than she realised, and it made him grin.  She was blushing adorably, and he slid the tea tray onto the nightstand, sitting down on the bed next to her.

“They did,” he said.  “I’m sure I can rustle up some sort of memory potion to wipe it from their minds.”

“I think they can handle it,” she said, and he grunted.

“They may think otherwise,” he said dryly.  “But I’m hoping that in a few days we can be back in Hyperion Heights, and you and I can have some time alone.”

“Hmm.”  She ran a fingertip through the chocolate syrup, dabbing him on the nose with it before kissing it off. “I look forward to it.”

He poured the tea as she began to eat, setting down her cup and adding milk to his own before getting back onto the bed and leaning back against the pillows.  Belle poured maple syrup over the pancakes, and he took a piece from her fork, chewing as she watched him.

“I - I feel a little better this morning,” she said.  “Less like my brain has been stretched out and then stuffed into a tiny box.  Trying to separate Lacey’s memories from my own - well, it’s causing me some problems.  Not much of it makes sense, and I’m getting a little confused between what’s real and what isn’t.”

“I suspect that will continue for awhile, even after I perform the spell,” he said.

She nodded a little resignedly, and took another bite of pancake, eyeing him.

“You - you said we had a son,” she said hesitantly, and licked her lips, as though she was nervous.  “What - what happened to him?”

He smiled, relieved that he could give her some good news.  It didn’t escape his notice that it had taken her until now to ask, and he cursed himself for not giving her some reassurance earlier.

“He’s well,” he promised.  “Alive and well, and you’ll meet him very soon.”

“I’m not sure for whom that meeting will be stranger,” she remarked.  “How will he react, do you think?”

Rumple smiled.

“I think he’ll be overjoyed to have his mother back in his life.”

“Really?”  Her expression seemed to dance somewhere between relief and anxiousness.  “How - how old is he? Is he back in our land?”

“No no, he’s here,” said Rumple gently.  “He’s - look, I promise that everything will become clear very soon.  I swear to you, Belle. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said immediately, and he smiled, reaching out to take her hand.

“Good,” he said.  “Now, let’s finish this breakfast.  I’d like to get to where we’re going while it’s still morning.”

* * *

Once they had eaten breakfast, he showered, Belle getting in after he had gone to dress.  It had been tempting to pull her into the shower with him, but then they would never have gotten out of the house, and he had too much important work to do for that kind of distraction.  He opened up his wardrobe, a towel around his waist, listening to the water running with half an ear as he looked through his collection of suits and shirts. It felt almost strange to touch his old clothes, the familiar feel of good silk and fine wool beneath his fingertips, and a tiny part of him which he suspected would never truly leave missed the simplicity of Weaver’s endless array of jeans and cotton shirts.

He pulled out a shirt, a deep blood-red silk, with a tie in a darker shade, and a black suit with the faintest charcoal stripe running through it.  Drawing on silk underwear made him smile, and as he adjusted the knot of his tie in the mirror he decided that jeans and shirts were all very well, but there was power in one’s appearance.  He had always known this to be true. Perhaps there would be room in the car for some of the suits, when they returned to Hyperion Heights. For return they would, he was certain of that. He had unfinished business to attend to.

He heard the shower cut off, and turned to his dresser, unlocking the box containing the dagger and drawing it out.  It was cool and heavy in the palm of his hand, and he could feel the familiar lure of power, that feeling that was almost relief as like found like, as the darkness recognised its host.  Grimacing a little, he slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket, and a moment later Belle came back through, hair twisted up in a towel and another around her body. She stopped dead when she saw him, running her eyes up and down his form.

“That is - a different look for you,” she observed, and he smiled.

“This is how I always dressed in this town,” he said.  “I’m afraid my Hyperion Heights wardrobe left something to be desired.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she said, stepping closer.  “There was a certain - rugged - quality to it which I think Lacey appreciated.”

“Well, I hope you appreciate this too,” he said, amused, and she bit her lip, blushing a little.

“Very much.”

His smile grew.

“There should be some of your own clothes in the wardrobe,” he said.  “I mean - I mean the clothes that your future self would come to own, I suppose.”

Belle’s brow had crinkled, as though she was trying to make sense of his words.

“This is very confusing,” she remarked, opening up the wardrobe door.  “It’s so strange to think that you and I lived here - _will_ live here?”  She shook her head.  “Just thinking about it makes my mind hurt.”

“Let’s try not to worry about the tense we use,” he said gently.  “I’m certain this is why time travel was always supposed to be impossible.  Too many bloody opportunities for confusion.”

Belle giggled, and started looking through the dresses and blouses that hung there, so he left her to it, taking _Her Handsome Hero_ from his bag and tucking it under his arm.  He headed downstairs to the kitchen, and Alice cut off mid-sentence as he entered, letting out a low whistle.

“Looking good, Detective!” she said approvingly.  “I had no idea you scrubbed up so well.”

“We’ll go as soon as Lacey’s ready,” said Rumple, setting the book on the table and ignoring her teasing.  “The place we need isn’t far from here, but we’ll drive most of the way.”

“And what are we doing when we get there?” asked Gideon.  “You still haven’t explained what this is all about. How does it link in to the murders in Hyperion Heights?”

“It’ll be easier to explain once we get to where we’re going,” said Rumple, keeping his tone light and dismissive.  “Alice, did you bring what I asked?”

“Yep.”

She reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, drawing out a friendship bracelet of braided coloured ribbons, its ends somewhat bedraggled.  She was frowning at it curiously, as though she couldn’t recall what was special about it. He smiled as he remembered her first being given the thing.  Perhaps Robin was in Hyperion Heights. He hoped so, although he couldn’t recall seeing her there.

“What – how is _that_ gonna help?” asked Gideon, bewildered, and Alice shrugged.

“I guess it’s a clue.  Right, Weaver?”

“Right,” he said.  “A very important clue.  Hang onto it, I’ll just be a little while.”

He went down to the basement, his shoes echoing on the wooden treads of the stairs.  Sunlight was filtering through the blinds at the tiny windows that looked out onto the crawl-space, and he flicked on the light, glancing around his old workroom.  It was just as he had left it, not that he had expected it to be otherwise. The spell he had cast would have kept everything secure, frozen in time. Which meant that the potions he had brewed before he and Belle left on their travels would still be just as potent as the day they had been bottled.

It didn’t take him long to find what he wanted, although the mixing of potions and the casting of the relevant spells was a delicate task.  He was pleased with what he produced, though, and he carefully poured the resulting deep purple potion into three empty vials, sealing them firmly with corks and a touch of magic before slipping them into the inside pockets of his jacket.  Mounting the stairs, he felt anxiety burn and seethe in his belly, and told himself firmly that he knew what he was doing. He almost believed it.

By the time he got back upstairs, Belle had joined the others, wearing a flared black skirt and tight lace-covered top which was somewhat reminiscent of Lacey’s old wardrobe.  It made him wonder how far apart her two selves really were, and he smiled as he looked her over. Perhaps they weren’t so different. She beamed at him, almost bouncing in her seat.

“Are we ready?” she asked, and he nodded, picking up the book from where it rested on the table and handing it to her.

“We’re ready,” he said.  “Get your coats on, it’s cold out there.”

* * *

It didn’t take them long to reach the familiar spot outside town, the tree-covered hill with the wishing well at the top, where he had taken Belle when she had first come back to him, a lifetime ago.  He parked the car at the bottom of the hill, and they made their way up in silence, wind whispering through the trees and snow still lingering in clumps on the dark ground. Belle had clutched _Her Handsome Hero_ to her chest, and was chewing her lip with a distracted expression on her face.  Even Alice was quiet, fingers plucking at the bracelet of braided ribbons, and he wondered how much she remembered of her old life.  How much seemed like a dream to her. Gideon squinted a little, frowning as he peered through the trees.

“There’s a well up there,” he said.  “Like - like one of those old-fashioned wishing wells.  Is that where we’re heading?”

“Yes.”

He could sense Gideon’s confusion, but pressed on, wetness from the frosted leaves glistening on the toes of his shoes as they climbed.  The wishing well was dark against the sky, looming on the brow of the hill through the trees, and he felt his heart thump as he neared it, nerves rising within him.  He tamped them down, his mouth twisting. The spell would work.

He reached the well first, and used a little magic to draw up a bucket as he waited for the others to approach.  Cold water sloshed over the rim as he set it on the top, and his skin tingled as he felt the magic in it. The magic that would help return that which had been lost.  He added a little to each of the vials of potion, smiling in satisfaction as he corked each and slipped them into his pocket. The sound of footsteps crunching in fallen leaves drew his ear, and he turned to face the others as they approached the well, one hand resting on the cold, rough stone at its edge.

“What are we doing here?” asked Gideon.  “Weaver? What is this?”

He drummed his fingers against the stone, glancing between them.  Alice looked nervous, shifting from foot to foot and fiddling with her bracelet.  Gideon looked perplexed, and Belle curious, her head tilted to the side as she watched him.

“This is a very special place,” he said, patting the stone edge of the well.  “I have a feeling that you’ll remember why very soon. Alice, would you please bring me your bracelet and the book you gave to - to Lacey?”

Scrunching her nose in confusion, Alice took the book from Belle and approached him, and Rumple beckoned to Gideon, who was looking so bewildered he wanted to hug him.

“This is the strangest assignment we’ve ever been on,” he remarked.  “I can’t wait to hear the explanation you keep promising.”

“Good,” said Rumple, with all of Weaver’s abruptness, and handed him the book.  “Keep hold of that for a moment, would you?”

Gideon took it, opening and closing his mouth in confusion, then shrugged, clutching the book with both hands.  Rumple turned to Alice and held out his hand.

“The bracelet?” he asked, and she held up her wrist, the braid of coloured ribbons knotted messily.

Nodding in satisfaction, he reached into his pocket for one of the glass vials.  He had decided to try the potion on her first; Alice was far closer to remembering than either Belle or Gideon, after all.  He tugged the stopper from the vial, holding Alice’s wrist steady as he poured the potion over her. Magic flowed over her, coating her body in a purplish glow, and Alice staggered and almost fell, Rumple grasping her upper arms to keep her upright.  He saw the moment her memories returned: she stared at him with eyes wide, recognition clear in them. She was shaking, her breathing ragged and heavy, and she pulled out of his grasp, sinking down onto her heels and running her hands through her hair.

“Are you alright?” he asked anxiously.  “Alice?”

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Gideon.  “What did you do?”

“I’m alright,” said Alice faintly.  “I’m okay. I just - I need a minute.”

Rumple glanced at Gideon, who was staring at him, brows drawing down.

“I’m gonna need an explanation, Weaver,” he said, and there was a cold tone in his voice.

“Then let me give you one,” said Rumple simply, reaching into his pocket for another of the vials.  Gideon took a step back.

“What is that stuff?” he asked suspiciously.

“Magic potion,” said Rumple with a grin, wiggling the vial back and forth, and Gideon gave him a flat look.

“No, really.”

“Fine, it’s a secret formula to increase endurance that the Seattle P.D. is having me test in the field,” he sighed.  “I thought I’d use you two as the first test subjects.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, it’s magic potion.”

Rumple plucked the stopper out and poured it over the book before Gideon could move.  The purple light flowed over him, just as it had with Alice, and Rumple held his breath as Gideon gasped and shook.  The book fell from his hands, and Gideon shook his head, blinking rapidly as the glow of magic cleared. He glanced from Rumple to Belle, his lower lip trembling, and Belle took a step towards him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

“Oh my - oh my gods!”  Gideon was staring at her, wide-eyed.  “How? I don’t - how is this possible?”

Rumple stepped forward hurriedly, wrapping his arms around his son and pulling him into a hug.  After a moment, Gideon returned the hug, squeezing him tightly, and Rumple whispered in his ear.

“She doesn’t remember,” he said softly.  “She’s cursed, and I need to cast a spell to bring her back.  Once the spell works its magic, she should come back to us, and I’ll explain everything.”

Gideon nodded, his grip tightening.

“She’s alive!” he breathed.  “I thought she was gone, but she’s alive!  And - and _younger_ than me.  How can that be?  It’s a curse?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Rumple, his voice pitched low enough that it wouldn’t carry beyond where they stood.  “She’s - look, it’s complicated, son. Just give me a few minutes. It’ll all make sense.”

There was a nod, and a sniffle, and when he pulled back there were tears in Gideon’s eyes.  Rumple wiped them away with his thumbs, smiling broadly.

“Welcome back,” he whispered, and leaned in to press his forehead to Gideon’s.  “Welcome back, son.”

“Papa...”

Gideon’s voice broke, and Rumple hugged him again, this time holding him a little longer as he drew deep, shuddering breaths.

“Are - are you okay?”

Belle had stepped closer, looking anxious, and Rumple pulled back.

“Fine,” he said, tears stinging his eyes.  “We’re fine. The return of one’s memories - well, it can be bittersweet.”   _As you’ll find out, my love, if this works._

He squeezed Gideon’s arms affectionately, and took a deep breath, stepping back and turning to Belle, who was watching him curiously.  Gideon crossed to squat by Alice, putting his hands on her shoulders and murmuring to her, and Alice put her arms around him and pushed her face into his shoulder as she whispered something.

Rumple turned his head to Belle, and she stepped towards him, feet crunching on frozen leaves, white breath misting out in the cold air as she approached.  She stopped about a pace back from him, her eyes very blue in the late winter morning.

“You used magic,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“Yes.”  He glanced at Alice and Gideon.  “I used the most treasured objects from their old lives, conduits to help bridge the chasm created by the curse.  It helped them to remember.”

“But - but you said it wouldn’t be the same for me,” she said.  “The things you told me of our life together - they’re not memories to be restored, because those parts of my life - well, they haven’t happened.  May never happen, now.”

“They happened,” he said.  “In a different life, a different time.  One thread of your story was used to craft a pattern, and it still lingers there.  We’re - I suppose we’re finding an earlier point in the pattern. A different path for this new thread to take.”

“Like unpicking a stitch,” she said slowly.  “Or darning a hole. The pattern already embroidered remains, but we can create something new.”

He smiled at her analogy.

“Yes, something like that.”

Belle nodded, and looked over her shoulder.  Gideon and Alice were still hugging, rocking slowly back and forth as they talked in soft voices.  She looked back at him.

“How will you help me to remember who I was?” she asked, and he sucked his teeth.

“It’s - going to be a little more complicated,” he said, and reached into his pocket to draw out the final vial of potion.  “I’ll need you to drink this.”

“Drink it?” she said warily.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well - how does it taste?”

“Disgusting, I daresay, but I’m afraid there’s no other way.”

She gave him a wry smile at that, and reached out to take the potion.  He watched as she poured it into her mouth and swallowed, pulling a face as she did so.

“Ugh, that’s gross!” she said.  “And it had well water in it! Are you sure it’s clean?”

“It’s clean,” he said, with a smile.  “And more importantly, it has magic. The power to return that which one has lost.  I’m - I’m hoping it’ll help.”

“Well, the taste is _certainly_ memorable,” she remarked.  “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Move a little closer to the well, please,” he said.  “I may need a little more water for this one.”

She gave him a wry look at that, but shuffled closer, and he reached into his pocket, drawing out the dagger. Winter sunlight glinted on its fluted blade, his name picked out in silver on the black steel. Belle eyed it curiously.

“What - what is that for?” she asked, a little nervously.

He held it across the splayed fingers of his hands, looking it over.  It was heavy with power, darkness flowing over him from it, but he no longer felt complete with it in his hands.  It had been a burden for too long, and he ached to be rid of it. Decades of searching for his deliverance from its control had left him weary of the power it held, hating the darkness it promised.  But it could be useful still. The irony of using the power of all the Dark Ones to bring back the light in his life was not lost on him.

“It’s a tool,” he said finally.  “A conduit, nothing more. It won’t hurt you, Belle, I promise.”

“I trust you,” she said, her voice clear and certain, and he smiled.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and took a deep breath, holding up the dagger.

He let the magic flow through him, rippling through his body, crawling under his skin.  Strange that it had once felt so natural, so wonderful, the darkness crawling through his veins and filling him with its power.  Now it felt like what it was: a disease, a parasite. Something dark and addictive and loathsome. He concentrated on his love for Belle, for Gideon, using his emotions to control the dark magic and bend it to his will.  His skin tingled, and he could feel light magic there too, coating him in its warmth, clearing away some of the darkness as he wove the intricate golden lace of the spell. Threads of magic curled around Belle, weaving in and out in a pattern so complex he could barely follow it, but he had not been a spinner for nothing.  His hand shook a little with the force of the magic, and he could feel the net closing in on Belle. It wasn’t enough.

Reaching out with a flick of the fingers of his free hand, he drew water from the well, a silvery arc flowing up out of the stone mouth and pouring down on Belle’s head as the golden net wound tight around her.  A low, bass _thrum_ sounded as it disappeared, followed by a loud splash of falling water.  Belle emerged dripping wet, hair plastered to her head, her breath coming in pants and her eyes wide and staring.  He felt his body sag a little, the dagger falling to his side, magic draining out of him and leaving him hollow and weary.

“Belle?” he said softly, but she was looking at Gideon, her lower lip trembling.

Gideon sat up, releasing Alice from his arms, an expression half-cautious, half-hopeful on his face.

“Mother?” he said.

Belle burst into tears, reaching for him as Gideon leapt to his feet and threw his arms around her.  Rumple felt his eyes sting, unable to keep the smile from his face as he watched them embrace, Gideon towering over his mother but somehow still managing to look like what he was: a child being comforted.  Belle raised her head, tears streaming down her face, and held out a hand to Rumple, pulling him close. He wept freely as he held his wife and son together for the first time in years, inhaling the scent of them, feeling their arms around him.  It was perfect. Almost. Belle shivered, and he pulled back, stroking wet hair back from her face.

“Hey,” he said gently.  “Let’s get you dry, hmm?”

Belle nodded, but shook her head as he raised the dagger, one hand staying his before stroking through his hair and cupping his cheek.  Her palm was ice-cold, her eyes the pale blue of a glacier.

“You wanted to get rid of it,” she said softly.  “I remember that much, Rumple. A hot bath and dry clothes will do for me just as well as magic.”

“And hot chocolate,” piped up Alice from behind them.  “I’m freezing my arse off.”

* * *

They made a strange procession back to where they had left the car.  Four people, one soaking wet, all with tear-stained faces and their arms around each other.  By the time they reached the house, Belle was shaking uncontrollably, and Rumple rushed to draw a bath and find her dry clothes to change into.  She shivered in the bathroom as she tried to take off her boots, the laces sodden and her fingers pale with cold, so he knelt at her feet, plucking at the laces and taking off each boot.  Belle thanked him with a smile, and told him she could do the rest.

He nodded as he backed away from her, feeling anxious all over again.  She remembered him, he knew that, but since that first euphoria of realisation, she had drawn back from him, becoming quiet and pensive. Undoubtedly she had a lot to process, but it was clear that she wanted him out of there before she undressed, and he wondered which memories of him were causing her the most pain.  He wondered if she would even want to stay in the same house as him that night. Shaking his head, he told himself to snap out of it. The important thing was that she got in the hot bath before hypothermia took over.  He draped the thick towelling dressing gown he had found over the sink, and backed towards the door as she was unzipping her skirt.

“I’ll - uh - go and see if I can rustle up that hot chocolate,” he said awkwardly.

When he went downstairs he was pleased to find that Alice had used her initiative and had not only made the hot chocolate, but had also added a generous shot of brandy to each mug.  Gideon was sitting at the kitchen table, flicking through _Her Handsome Hero_ with a smile on his face, but he looked up as Rumple entered.

“How is she?” he asked.

“I left her in the bathroom,” he said.  “She’ll soon warm up.”

“No, I meant - how _is_ she?”

“Ah.”  Rumple ran a hand through his hair.  “We - we didn’t really cover that.”

“How did you do it, Papa?” asked Gideon, looking bewildered.  “How did you get her back?”

“I didn’t,” he sighed.  “My current theory is that someone took her out of her original timeline.  She’s Belle, but from before we met. Before we fell in love, before you were born, before - any of it.”

“But she knows us,” he persisted.  “She _remembers_ us!”

“Pulling her out like that disrupted her timeline,” he said.  “Fractured everything, sent - echoes - of her life back along the line to her, as though they were memories.  I just - I just restored all of it. At least, that was the idea, I suppose I won’t know how much she ‘remembers’ until I talk to her about it.”

“So,” said Alice.  “Who snatched her out of her timeline?”

“The burning question,” he said grimly. “And one to which I don’t have the answer.  Only suspicions.”

“Who?” asked Gideon warily.

“Well, the only person reckless and stupid but powerful enough to mess with time, that I’ve met, is Zelena.”

“Ugh.”  Gideon’s mouth flattened.  “Well, if there’s ever someone who liked to screw with this family, it’s certainly her.”

“I have my suspicions that she’s in Hyperion Heights,” said Rumple.  “But only suspicions, I don’t know for sure. It’s based on the information Alice has managed to gather so far, and my own intelligence.  That’s the reason we’re going back.”

“You think it’s the mysterious cloaked woman?” asked Alice.  “Did she cast the curse that took us there?”

Rumple shook his head.

“I doubt it, or if she did it was a mistake,” he said.  “I don’t think she intended to end up over here before she had put whatever plan she was brewing into action, so I have to use that to my advantage.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Gideon, and Rumple smiled.

“We’re going to find her, and put her somewhere where she can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

“So, you’re not going to kill her, then?” said Gideon.  Rumple hesitated.

“No,” he said finally.  “Not unless I have to. Gods, I must be getting old...”

“I think it’s a sign of personal growth,” said Alice, with a grin.  “Good for you.”

“You’ve stopped a lot of people without killing them,” added Gideon.  “I’m sure you’ll find a way this time.”

“Thank you.”  He raised his mug.  “We stop the witch, okay?”

“I’m in,” said Gideon.

“Me too,” said Alice.

There was silence as they each took a swig of hot chocolate, as though it sealed their pledge.  Rumple picked up the fourth mug.

“I’ll - er - take this up to Belle,” he said.  “We’ll head back tomorrow morning. I don’t see the point in setting off tonight, I think we could all use a rest after what we’ve been through.”

Gideon and Alice exchanged a look.

“Yes, we could,” she said airily.  “So make sure you cast some sort of soundproofing spell before you go to bed, okay?”

Gideon groaned, letting his head thump onto his folded arms, and Alice’s cackle followed Rumple up the stairs.

Despite Alice’s jest, he was by no means certain that he would be welcome in Belle’s bed that night.  She was still in the bathroom, and he didn’t want to enter unless he was sure she wanted him there, so he set the hot chocolate on the dresser, using a tendril of magic to keep it hot for her.  He drank his own, relishing the heat and sweetness, and the burn of brandy in his mouth and throat as he gazed out of the bay window overlooking the gardens and the woods beyond. The winter sun was already past its peak and sliding towards the horizon; the short day would soon grow dark.  He finished the chocolate, setting down the mug as he heard the bathroom door open. Belle came in, swathed in the bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel for the second time that day, her cheeks flushed and an expression on her face that he couldn’t quite interpret.

“Hey,” he said lamely.  “Are you - do you feel better?”

“Well, I’m warmer,” she said.  “I have a hell of a headache, but at least I’m not going to freeze to death.”

“There’s some chocolate there for you,” he said.  “Should still be hot.”

“Thank you.”

She was staring at him, as though she had never seen him before, her eyes running over him, and it made him feel awkward, guilty, exposed.  He was standing around while she was in her bathrobe, and she probably wanted him gone so she could dress.

“I’ll - uh - I’ll get out of your way,” he muttered.  “You’ll probably want something to wear, the pyjamas I gave you are here, I think - oh, actually, let me get you some clean ones...”

He turned to the wardrobe drawers, rifling through them with shaking hands as he grasped at dark silk pants.

“Rumplestiltskin, wait.”

Her voice made him freeze, as though his feet were rooted to the floor.  His senses were heightened; he could feel the thump of his heart, and the softness of the silk in his hands.  He could hear his own breathing, could smell the scent of the bath foam she had used and a hint of his own cologne on his skin.  He could taste the residue of chocolate on his tongue, the slight heat from the brandy in his mouth.

“I remember,” she said softly.

He turned to face her slowly, swivelling on the balls of his feet.  She was staring at him, as young and perfect and beautiful as she had been when they first met, her eyes wide and blue and filled with something he couldn’t interpret.

“How much do you remember?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Everything.”  She pulled a face.  “Well - most things, I think.  There are some gaps. I remember the beginning, and - and the end.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut, and heard the soft shuffle of her feet on the rug as she shifted closer.

“I remember our time in the Dark Castle, and the asylum in Storybrooke,” she said.  “I remember our fights, and the lies, and our separations, and the Darkness coming between us over and over.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “Belle, I’m so sorry, i—”

He cut off as he swallowed hard, guilt a heavy ball in his stomach, but the touch of her hand on his made him open his eyes and glance up.  Belle was gazing at him, her lower lip trembling.

“I remember - losing you,” she whispered.  “And finding you. I remember our wedding, and our home at the Edge of Realms, and years of happiness with you and Gideon.  I remember it all, Rumple, as if it had happened yesterday. It’s - it’s a _lot_.”

He nodded, tears brimming in his eyes, coursing down his cheeks.   _She’ll need time to process things.  It’s only natural. Perhaps we should stay in Storybrooke a little longer.  She could have her own room, her own space. Or perhaps she’ll want to move out, stay at Granny’s.  Gods, I don’t want to lose her!_

“And I remember you’re a good man,” she said gently, making him start.  He stared at her, wide-eyed, and she was smiling a little sadly. “You’re a good man, with a pure heart.  The only man who could defeat the Darkness.”

“But - but I didn’t,” he stammered.  “I tried, Belle, I swear I did! After you were gone, I - I found out about the Guardian, someone who could finally put the Darkness to rest!  But - but I searched everywhere, and - and well, it could have been Alice. It was _going_ to be Alice, but I couldn’t do that to her, I couldn’t let it just destroy someone else’s life!  I wanted her to be happy. I - I wanted to find another way, but I wanted it _gone_ , I _swear_ to you!”

She was smiling at him, and put her other hand over his.  It seemed to ground him, as her touch always had, and he drew a shuddering breath.

“You’re the only man who could hold the Darkness, and not let it consume him,” she said.  “The only one who could use it for good, just as Merlin predicted. You were born a Saviour, Rumple.  You were born to be a force for good in this world. In _all_ the worlds.”

“But that destiny was taken from me,” he breathed.  “My mother took that from me. I was nothing when I took on the Dark Curse.  I was weak. A coward.”

“No,” she said firmly.  “I know you always thought so, but I never believed that.  You were afraid, but that’s not the same thing. You wanted to save your son, and you sacrificed your soul to do it.  I saw the good in you from the first. I saw the love in your heart.”

“Love doesn’t wash away the things I’ve done,” he said softly.

“But it _matters_ ,” she insisted.  “Your heart is true, it always has been, even when it felt like the Darkness was winning.”

He shook his head, guilt and shame bubbling up within him with the memories of the things he had done, and Belle squeezed his hands.

“You’re full of love, Rumple,” she said.  “For me, and for Bae and Gideon. For Henry, and for Alice.  That’s what makes you different from other Dark Ones. Emma had her Saviour status and her light magic to protect her, you had none of that.  And yet you controlled it. You kept it safe. You kept _us_ safe.   _You’re_ the place where the Darkness can rest.”

He shook his head.  She always had such faith in him, even when it wasn’t warranted.

“I’m the Dark One,” he said.  “I’m just a host, Belle.”

“No,” she said softly.  “The Dark Curse didn’t realise what it was getting with you.  You can hold the Darkness, and still be pure of heart. _You’re_ the Guardian.”

“I don’t want to be,” he breathed, shaking his head, and she smiled, squeezing his hands again.

“I know, my love,” she said.  “It’s a burden you should never have had to bear, but we’ll find a way to beat it. You, me, and Gideon. We’ll find a way for you to put it down, I promise.”

“How?” he asked, and she smiled again.

“We had a good life together last time,” she said.  “It was a good life, wasn’t it?”

“It was perfect,” he whispered.  “It was a perfect life.”

“Well then,” she said.  “I think it’s time we had another adventure.  And this time, love, I promise you we’ll find a way.”

She released his hands, sliding her own up his arms to his shoulders, and he looked up, meeting her eyes.  A tear ran down his cheek, and Belle brushed it away with her thumb.

“Kiss me, Rumple,” she breathed.

He dropped the silk pyjamas he had in his hands, reaching up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking over her cheeks as he bent his head to hers, his lips pressing against hers.  She let out a tiny moan, her body melting into his, and he let the tip of his tongue sweep across her lips, gently parting them, sliding inside to stroke against hers. Her hands were in his hair, her touch sending shivers through him, and he reached up to untwist the towel and let it fall, shaking out her damp curls.  Belle’s fingers twisted in his hair as they kissed, and he could feel the tears rising up through him again. To have her in his arms, to have her _know_ him, to have her accept him and love him and want him - it would never cease to be wonderful.

She pulled back a little, breaking the kiss, her fingers dropping to tug open the belt of her robe, and she shrugged it from her shoulders, leaving her naked before him.  He flicked a hand at the door to lock it, casting a hurried spell to soundproof the room. Gideon and Alice had already heard more than enough of what the two of them got up to.  He suspected Gideon would want to forget he had ever been in the same apartment. His face wanted to crumple at the thought of Gideon, safe and sound downstairs, chatting with Alice.  His son, and his true love, both returned to him. If only Baelfire had lived. Life would truly have been perfect.

Tears were stinging his eyes again, and Belle rose up on her toes to kiss them from him, soft lips pressing against his eyelids, his cheeks, brushing against his mouth with the taste of salt.  Her fingers were going to work on his buttons, and he ran his hands over her hips, pulling her close as his mouth found hers. Her skin was cooling rapidly, and he didn’t want her to catch a chill, so he let his fingers flicker, banishing his clothes to the wardrobes and making Belle break the kiss with a wide-eyed gasp and a giggle.  She pulled back a little, eyes flicking over him and a wide smile curving her lips.

“Magic can be _wonderful_ ,” she breathed, and kissed him again.

He certainly didn’t think there was anything wonderful about his naked body, but she had always made him feel good, even when he didn’t deserve it.  He bent a little, picking her up in his arms and making her break the kiss with a squeak of delight as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down in the blankets, her skin soft and damp from the hot water she had soaked in, the scent of bath foam still clinging to her, and she smiled up at him, her eyes filled with love, with acceptance.

He bent to kiss her, lips tenderly brushing against hers, the kiss deepening as her fingers stroked through his hair.  She tasted sweet, her mouth soft and wet and hungry for him, her tongue gently touching his as he opened her up. His hands slid down her body, cupping firm breasts that pushed into his palms, feeling her hips lift as she tried to feel more of him against her.  He was growing hard, swelling against her thigh, aching to be inside her, to be one with her, one with his true love.

She pulled her mouth from his, kissing down his throat and making shivers ripple through him with the touch of her lips, and he groaned in pleasure as her mouth tugged at his skin, her tongue sweeping over him and rasping against his fresh stubble.  Belle kissed lower, lips travelling along his collarbones, tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of his throat. She pushed at his shoulders, and he rolled onto his back, Belle letting out a contented sound as her body pressed down on his. Her hair was falling in his face, and he reached up to brush it back, wet strands winding around his fingers as his mouth sought hers.

He was fully hard now, and she was undulating against him, rubbing over his cock and sending jolts of sensation through him.  Their mouths parted with a soft, wet sound, and Belle pushed up on her hands, palms against his chest as she straddled him. He could feel the heat of her core, the wetness against his tender skin, and he locked his eyes onto hers as she slowly reached between them to take him in hand and guide him inside her.  He groaned at the feel of it as she sank down onto him, her heat surrounding him, her body drawing him deep and holding him tight.

She braced herself, hands on his belly, the afternoon sunlight making her skin glow.  She was lit from behind, an auburn halo around her head, the spiralling ends of still-damp curls clinging to her shoulders.  He shook his head, reaching up to cup her soft cheek as tears welled in his eyes.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.  “My beautiful Belle. Gods, I’ve missed you!”

She smiled, her eyes gleaming at him, and he let his head roll back against the pillows, a groan rumbling out of him as she began to move.  Her hips rocked slowly, her flesh pulling at him as she rose and fell, and he moved his hips in time with her, thrusting upward, deep inside.  His hands cupped her breasts, gently squeezing, feeling the nipples hard against his palms before sliding down to grasp her hips and pull her closer. Belle moaned as she ground against him, eyes closed, lips parted as her breathing quickened. He watched her avidly, fascinated by every movement, every twitch of her muscles, every flicker of her eyelids, every rise and fall of her chest.  Every sign that she was real, and beautiful, and alive, and there in the moment with him.

She quickened the pace a little, and he went with it, tightening his grip on her hips, increasing the friction for them.  Belle’s breath was coming hard, eyes closed as she ground against him, as she worked herself up to the edge. Her fingers danced restlessly on the skin of his belly, opening and closing, and she threw her head back with a long, low cry as she came, her body clenching around him, tugging at his flesh as a rush of heat enveloped him.  He sat up, one arm going around her and tugging her close as she jerked and moaned, and his free hand sank into her curls, his mouth finding hers, swallowing her tiny cries, tasting her kiss.

He held her close, rocking them gently, enjoying the feel of being buried inside her, of the blissful pull of her flesh against his, the wet heat of her.  She had shifted a little, arms around his shoulders, kissing him hungrily as they moved as one, and he could feel the pleasure rising up through him, making his body grow taut, his thrusts deep and long.  He pulled his mouth free with a gasp, pressing his brow against hers, their eyes locked and the heat of her breath on his lips. He came with a hoarse cry, pleasure washing over him, stealing his sight as his cock pulsed and thrust.  Belle clung to him, pressing kisses to his face, his neck, whispering that she loved him as he pushed deeper inside her.

His climax passed, leaving him with a sense of peace, of bliss, and he let out a heavy sigh, tightening his grip on her and letting his head rest on her shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.  She was real. She was alive. She was his.

They stayed in that position for some time, arms wrapped around one another, fingers gently stroking.  The scent of their mingled pleasure, their perspiration, was wonderfully familiar, and he inhaled deeply, pressing kisses to her damp skin, lips trailing up her neck to her ear.

“I love you, Belle,” he whispered.  “So much. Always and forever, my love.”

He sat back a little, raising his head, and she leaned in to press her forehead against his, noses just touching as her fingers stroked through his hair.

“I love you,” she said.  “I always will. And I remember _everything_.”

Her smile had turned a little wicked, her eyes gleaming, and he couldn’t help smiling back.

“Everything?” he murmured.  Belle pursed her lips.

“I think so,” she said.  “But perhaps you ought to show me a few things anyway.  Just to make sure.”

His grin widened, and leaned in to kiss her again.  The journey back to Hyperion Heights could wait.


End file.
